Ruby and John
by Nidhoegg
Summary: Jane always gets bored quickly, so when he is suspended, a surprise is just what he needs. Or is it really?
1. Wet John

**A/N: **So, here's the second story I promised. It's more funny than my usual stuff, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to restrain myself from adding a bit hurt!Jane somewhere. Nothing major though. Now, I really hope you like it and please, tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer: **No money made.

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**1. Wet John**

The yelling could be heard from down the hall. Minelli's enraged voice booming through the closed office door.

It was one of those days.

The regular staff was already used to it, ignoring the scene or at most exchanging a small knowing smile. Only newbies and people passing by were staring as discretely as possible at the chief's office, wondering who the poor soul might be that was so thoroughly ripped to shreds.

After enjoying their startled and wary looks for a while, those knowing the story behind these days would usually take pity on them. In hushed voices they then enlightened their rapt audience that today was one of those days.

Usually these occurred shortly after the Serious Crime Unit under senior agent Teresa Lisbon had solved a case.

Or, to be honest, after their consultant had once again solved a case by deceiving, tricking and overall insulting witnesses and suspects alike.

And said consultant, a man by the name of Patrick Jane, was also commonly known as the one who got ordered into Virgil Minelli's office time and again, mostly accompanied by agent Lisbon as some kind of referee.

Today was such a day.

Jane sat in his usual place on the comfy sofa at the wall, silently amused by the older man's glaring red head. If he wasn't careful, the blonde thought, snickering internally, then the chief's head would explode or go off like a balloon.

He swallowed the smirk this image brought.

Okay, so perhaps he had dropped a bit of vital information to their main suspect - accidentally, of course. And yes, maybe that was why their witness was now lying in a fluffy hospital bed.

But, really, the guy had been a pig! He deserved a little fear for his life.

Besides, now he could laze about all day and get sponge bathes by nurses. Really, Jane had done him a favor!

Unfortunately, Minelli saw the whole affair a bit differently.

The consultant's actions had gone against all known laws and regulations and were therefore absolutely despicable. Yadda, yadda. What else was new?

And yet - there he was. Sitting in the same office he always found himself in, feeling reminded of his school days, more often than not spent in the principle's lovely presence.

He barely restrained himself from stealing a look at his watch, knowing it would only work against him. So, instead, he finally started his patented mental countdown.

From three - two - one -

"...suspension, Jane!"

Ignition!

Oh, how he wanted to yell _Bingo!_ or _Yahtzee!_ or something. But again, he restrained himself; hardly though.

The chief's next words wiped his amusement away quickly, anyhow.

"Two months!"

"But -", Jane started.

"He is grateful of your mercy", Lisbon interrupted him with a pointed glare.

She had been almost as furious as Minelli, already giving him a long detailed speech about everything that could have gone wrong with his brilliant plan. Still, when they had been called to their routine after-case-meeting with the Boss, the dark-haired agent had defended him as much as possible, trying to keep their raging bull - namely Virgil Minelli - at least half-way reasonable.

Jane huffed a small disappointed sigh. Two months were a long time. A very long time of nothing to do, peachy.

Yet, even he had to admit that protest wouldn't help his case. In fact, it would only serve to make his sentence longer.

So, begrudgingly, the blonde kept his mouth shut, nodded tight-lipped and retreated.

One the way to his car, he thought about what he could do now, seeing as he suddenly had a whole lot of free time to fill. But, soon, he decided that his temporary leave wouldn't turn out to be so grisly. He would read a few books that were catching dust on his shelves, watch documentaries on TV, and wait till the team called him back because they were stuck in a case. Most likely, he'd have two weeks top to spend in exile.

Thus concluded, Jane started his Citroen with a smile and drove off into his surprise holidays.

/ ~~~~~~ \

The first two days off work turned out to be okay. Patrick finished three books, started and broke off eight more, watched a few very interesting documentaries on the Roman and Greek Empire and a few less interesting ones on dog breeds and training. And, duh, if some people weren't spoiling their curs rotten! Had he owned a dog, he certainly wouldn't have taken it to a Spa centre for your furry best friend.

After this he had to switch the TV off, for fear of gagging should he have to watch one more advertisement for the latest dog wear.

Other than that, the consultant went on extensive walks through his neighborhood, always amazed by what he could learn about the people around him.

What was kind of scary was how many of his neighbors were so obviously having affairs. And when he noticed that one woman from down the street was cheating on her husband with both the gardener and the maid, Patrick seriously wondered if he had somehow walked into an episode of Desperate Housewives.

But all in all, he managed to spend his time without feeling bored. Although, he had to admit that that was partly because every time he felt the first tendrils of boredom penetrate his sensitive mind, his hand almost automatically reached for the phone and called one of the team, chatting about everything and nothing.

So, after they stopped taking his calls anymore at the end of the second day, he spent part of the third to find out how you could suppress your caller ID. He managed to do so about noon and was happily rewarded with a completely unnerved groan by his favorite lead agent.

Proud of his victory over modern technology, Jane also wasn't in the least offended when Lisbon only threatened to come and destroy all phones in a radius of at least two miles around his house, should he call one more time. Exception was only a serious emergency - being serious bleeding, openly visible bones and death. And after a final _I mean it, Jane!_ the line went dead.

But Patrick didn't really care. He would go now, have a look at the latest development in his personal Wisteria Lane.

He only got to his feet though before his plan was crossed by a highly uncommon Californian downpour. Great.

So, no walking. Instead he would have to spend his time in his once so welcoming family home. Now, it resembled more a haunted house with the locked doors of his daughter's rooms and his wife's studio. She had been a wonderful artist, keeping her childhood hobby alive in a sunny room in the upper storey. After their death, Jane couldn't bring himself to stow away their material life in ugly boxes and hide them in the garage or worse even, give them away. But he also couldn't see the remains of his once happy family every day, so in the end, Patrick had closed it all away, untouched since their untimely death.

Shaking his head, he forced his dark thoughts back down where he kept them simmering along with the lust for revenge. He wasn't so desperately bored yet that he had to immerse himself in the past.

Which brought him back to the main question, what should he do? The very idea of starting yet another unrealistic novel or watching a show about the trendiest hair styles for your Poodle made the blonde's skin crawl.

So, what else was there to do...?

A loud grumble took the decision from him. Cooking it was! On to the kitchen!

Jane went to work with such a fervor that he ignored the devastation he was leaving behind while pulling out pans, spices and kitchen knives. Today he would have a meal that could make a king envious.

And after a few blotched tries and various improvisations due to a lack of foodstuffs, he had created a skillful salad, a rich main course and a calorie-filled desert.

Though, since his kitchen rage had lasted the whole afternoon, only disrupted by two short calls to Cho - asking if Saffron was of Arabic origin or Asian - and to Van Pelt - inquiring if Rigsby had ever cooked for her yet - Patrick enjoyed a magnificent dinner, still oblivious to the war zone his kitchen had turned into.

Finally full and surprisingly exhausted, the former psychic trudged over to his black leather couch, deciding that it wasn't worth the energy to go up to the bedroom and his solitary mattress.

He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

For once Patrick didn't have to face an invisible killer with a gruesome smiley face in his dreams. In fact, he didn't dream at all. Indeed, it was a nice change.

And still, fate seemed to have decided that Patrick Jane wasn't to sleep a whole night through. At about 1:30 a.m. strange scratching sounds made the blonde wake up with a start and uncomfortably roll off the sofa and landing on the hard wooden floor with a thud.

Suddenly finding himself one level below from where he had fallen asleep, he sat up a bit dazed, trying to figure out what had caused his impromptu awakening.

He stopped cold when he noticed the noise coming from his front door. Someone was trying to get in!

Immediately his mind sped up, enlisting numerous possible scenarios, going from a drunk that had mixed up addresses over burglars to Red John himself. The last one, though he crossed out quickly. Had it been his nemesis, he would be either dead by now or at least tied down and face to face with the serial killer.

Still, the question remained. Who was trying to break in?

Jane sighed silently. Only one way to find out...

Carefully and as quietly as humanly possible, he climbed to his feet, snatching up his cell phone. Congratulating himself once more for hiding his caller ID, his finger stopped millimeters away from the speed dial.

Maybe his nightly visitor was completely harmless. A practical joke by some teenagers or a neighbor after an intense date with Jim and Johnny. The team would never let him have the end of it, should he ring Lisbon up at this hour because of his paranoia.

But then, maybe it was a criminal out there, trying a B&R. Or one of the many suspects and witnesses he had enraged throughout the last few years seeking revenge on him now. Then, calling might prove to be a very good idea indeed.

These thoughts all flitted through the blonde's head at light-speed.

Thunder suddenly grumbled in the distance, making Patrick jump and yelp slightly. Quickly he clamped one hand over his mouth to hide his presence, but it wouldn't have been necessary.

As soon as the heavenly growl caused the walls to quiver, a high-pitched howl sounded from right outside his front door.

Whoever was out there seemed to be terrified. And wet, judging from the continuing downpour outside, now coupled with a full-on thunder storm.

Jane took a deep breath, forcing down his own anxieties and ordering himself to be a man and open that damned door.

He started walking. Okay, perhaps not exactly walking, more like creeping.

The scratching got louder, more insistent, and was now mixed with pitiful whining.

What in all hell's name was out there?!

He stopped at the door, his thumb readily hovering over the speed dial button for Lisbon's cell phone.

It was now or never.

Slowly, Patrick reached for the knob, his heart beating like a modern techno song. Fingertips brushed over the metal, his breath coming in short puffs.

Gathering up his courage, Jane gripped the knob, turned it and threw open the door. It swung inwards and revealed - a stormy, unfriendly Californian night.

There was no one there. But the moment the offending wooden door had opened something about knee-high, furry and dripping wet had whizzed into the warm interior of Jane's home.

Phone still clutched in his grip, the consultant turned to stare after the bundle that had just torn into his house, before absentmindedly closing the door again and following the trail of mud and water into his living room.

He stopped a few feet away from his previous sleeping berth. His occupied sleeping berth.

Carrying everything from mud and rainwater to leaves and whatnot onto his once clean sofa, two crystal blue puppy dog eyes stared miserably up at him.

And that's what it was, a puppy. A quite adorable but unbelievably dirty puppy.

Jane took in what was visible of the mud-encrusted fur. Trying hard to ignore the fact that the dog was ruining his sofa, he thought back to the documentary he had watched. It came back easily enough and after a few more moments of studying each other, the blonde concluded that he had an Australian Shepherd as his furry visitor.

The dog also seemed to come to conclusion about the tall human, because it yawned widely, before bedding its head on its front paws. Obviously, the pup had decided that the blonde man didn't count as any immediate danger and that it was safe enough to make itself comfortable.

Patrick couldn't help but stare openly at the small intruder. Trying hard to fully comprehend the fact there was a wet dog on his sofa, he started wondering about the background of this unexpected visit.

Two possible scenarios came to his mind. In one, the pup had run away from its owner, but had been surprised by the thunderstorm, immediately trying to find shelter. In this case, the dog would only need a temporary place to stay.

The other possibility was that someone had abandoned the little one and when the storm had come, it had instinctively searched for a warm home. If it was so, then it - Jane looked a bit closer and concluded that _it_ was a _he_ - would need a new owner all together.

The blonde sighed, earning a pitiful glance from the multi-colored pup. Of course, he could bring his guest to an animal shelter first thing in the morning. And for the time of not even two seconds he also seriously considered doing so.

But the pup gave one almost pleading whine and, despite himself, Jane knew he couldn't bring himself to dump the little dog with god-knew-whom.

And he had nothing to do anyway, so, he decided to keep the small guy. At least for a while.

Who knew, perhaps there would be tracers soon and the rightful owner would come looking for the pup.

"Okay", he sighed, immediately capturing the dog's attention, "you can stay."

The pup barked happily, his tail whooshing over the leather and smearing the mud into the fabric.

Patrick winced, deciding that his first act as temporary dog owner would be to bath the little one.

Carefully he stepped closer, hands shown openly, so the pup wouldn't freak out. But he wouldn't have had to worry, since it only hopped up excitedly, panting and wagging its tail faster.

The blonde smiled slightly. Yes, he liked the idea more with each passing second. Maybe he could even train the dog a bit, teach him some tricks.

But first, it needed a name.

"Any idea, what I should call you?", he asked the pup, not at all feeling silly for talking to an animal.

It would have to be something that didn't build up too much attachment. Something original, but that could also work as a temporary substitute, should there be an owner who had named it already. Maybe it already had a name, one that Jane just didn't -

He smiled suddenly. The solution was obvious, really.

"You know what", Patrick met the dog's gaze, both now beaming in their own way, "I've got the perfect name for you. From now on, I will just call you John Doe."


	2. Innocent Blue

**A/N: **So, two chapters on one weekend. Yay! I'm somehow really fond of this story, perhaps because I'm such a sucker for dogs. I hope you'll like it, too. And please, please, please tell me what you think.

**A/N2: **Oh, and I wanted to add, being a passionate drawer, I've done two pics of John Doe that can be found on my deviantart page. If you're interested, go to my profile and follow the link. *self-promotion end*

**Disclaimer: **No money made. Only Johnny is my own creation ^^

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**2. Innocent Blue**

Patrick sighed, just a bit defeated. Maybe - but only maybe - his decision on keeping the dog had been a mistake.

After he had chosen a name for pup, Jane had carefully taken John up in his arms, fighting the urge to wince at the muddy stains on his favorite piece of furniture.

The dog had yelped happily and tried to lick his new human's nose, but the blonde only chuckled slightly, keeping the wet tongue at distance.

With Johnny clutched softly, but firmly in his arms, the former psychic started towards his bathroom.

On the way, he wondered for a moment what his colleagues would think, seeing him with his new house mate. Would Lisbon find them cute, maybe even adorable?

Most likely, though, they would all frown upon his choice in names. He had to admit, it was strange to name a pet like the one person that had destroyed your life. And if he was completely honest with himself, he had to concede that in the months following the murders he **had **flinched at every mention of the name John.

But, he had overcome this constant state of shock and indelible fury. He had found a way back into society. And society consisted of a whole load of Johns and Jonathans.

Victims bore this name, killers as well. Just as witnesses and innocent bystanders. Hell, Patrick's dentist was a John. He had gotten rid of the fear and fury this name had once created.

And, besides, John Doe was just perfect for the little mud monster.

As if agreeing, the dog gave an excited bark, his wet fur soaking the fabric of Jane's shirt.

The tall blonde smiled. Somehow, it felt good, like fate had finally granted him a favor. Johnny would offer entertainment. And how difficult could it be to bath and feed the little mutt?

A lot, he was forced to realize soon.

They entered the pristine bathroom, electric light reflecting off clean white tiles.

"Let's get you cleaned up, huh?", Jane uttered softly, setting the dog down into the bath tub and reaching for the spray.

Johnny barked, stood on his hind legs and smeared mud onto the rim of the tub with his front paws. The dirt-encrusted tail added to the picture.

The pup seemed to find this new game incredibly exciting. His blue eyes were sparkling in the artificial light and Patrick couldn't help but smile back. He was just too cute, even the blonde had to admit this.

"Okay, let's do this, shall we?"

He kept an eye on the dog, while waiting for the water to heat up to acceptable warmth. If he was honest he had no idea what temperature was good for a pup, but after a moment he decided that now it was okay.

The first water sprays hit the fur and John yelped happily, immediately starting to shake his body, making clumps of soft, wet mud splutter through the room.

Jane flinched, averting his head to not get hit. The pup stopped finally, meeping fondly.

So Patrick dared to look up again, aghast at the mud attack on his once clean bathroom.

"That", he stated after a moment, "wasn't nice."

His eyes followed a large chuck of dirt slowly sliding down the wall, leaving behind a trail of brown. The mud was now dispersed in the whole room, except a vaguely human shape right behind the blonde.

With a heavy sigh, he realized that his shirt was a goner.

Shifting his attention back on the happily panting culprit, Jane shook his head and with new resolve set about trying again.

This time, one hand tried to reign in the youngster's enthusiasm, while the other held the shower head ready.

Had someone been standing underneath the bathroom window listening, they might have called the police, claiming a vicious fight was taking place.

And indeed, the task of cleaning John was turning out to be an all out war.

After almost an hour, the dog was finally close to reasonably clean. The same couldn't be said about either Jane or his bathroom.

The consultant huffed, trying hard to ignore the battlefield around him, and quickly fetched one of the cleaner towels.

The pup again barked, joyous at how much fun the pale-haired man was turning out to be, and at the speed of light took hold of one side of the cloth with his teeth, pulling.

A soft _oomph_ could be heard, before the human realized what his part of the game was and started to pull, too.

Patrick almost yelped as John bit into the towel, trying to wrench it away. In response he started tugging on the offending cloth, too, and the next fight was on.

By the end of it, when the pup was finally as dry as he was ever going to be, sunlight started filtering through the window and the towel was ready for the trash.

It was also this moment that Jane doubted his earlier decision for the first time.

But the thought didn't linger. Okay, so maybe bathing wasn't that easy. They would both get used to it and learn.

For now, the blonde grabbed John and carried him out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

"Alright, little one. You be a good boy here and I clean up that battle ground you caused, okay?"

The pup cocked its head, big innocent blue eyes sparkling up at him.

Jane nodded slightly and went to get a bucket and a mop, but not before closing both his bedroom door and the bathroom door. No need to ask for more chaos.

Cleaning up the tiled room was a tedious work, costing him a lot of patience.

At least, Johnny was being quiet. Most likely the dog was by now just as exhausted as he was and had rolled up on the-

He winced. His sofa. Oh, dear, he had completely forgotten about the stained leather.

A heavy exhale tore from his throat and he decided that the bathroom could wait for a second, while he took care of his sofa.

Taking the pail filled with soapy water and a rag with him, Jane trudged down the stairs.

To his surprise there was no dog to be seen in the living room, only the black sofa was standing miserably in the middle of the vast room.

Now that sunlight started lighting up the house, the stains on his favorite relaxation spot were stark against the once pristine leather.

Again he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering for the second time just what he had thought taking in a stray.

It wasn't going to help, though, and Patrick knew it. The couch wouldn't clean itself and neither would the bathroom.

So, gathering what was left of his resolve, he set to work.

And through all the time while he carefully removed all traces of the nightly dirt attack, the pup was nowhere to be seen.

The blonde didn't think about it to much, though. For now he was just happy that the sofa was cleaned in a reasonable amount of time.

Sunlight was falling through the windows at a higher angle. It was later in the morning; outside cars could be heard sloshing through left-over witnesses of the prior storm and rain.

Patrick climbed to his feet, amazed at how quick time had flown by. Usually it seemed to move much too slow for his liking, but right now, since being totally busy cleaning after Johnny, he felt as if time was going in fast motion.

A rumble from his midsection also announced that morning had arrived. It was breakfast time.

Well, the bathroom would have to wait a moment longer. First he'd grab something to eat, see if he had something that would be okay for a dog and take care of his house afterwards.

It sounded like a solid plan.

Jane snatched up the half-empty pail and slowly strolled over towards the kitchen, silently wondering where the pup had disappeared to.

Deciding he would look for the little one after breakfast, he turned around the corner, stepped through the doorway.

And stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a moment filled with disbelief and shock, both bubbling to the surface.

"John Doe!!!"

The holler could be heard from down the street, causing a few birds to hastily fly up and away.

Inside the Jane residence, though, the cry of one agitated consultant only resulted in two big blue eyes watching innocently, while just cleaned paws were leaving chocolate brown prints on the once dark blue tiles.

And suddenly, Jane remembered his cooking day, remembered that he had left pans and dishes to be washed today.

How John had managed to take a hold of these leftovers, though, would most likely forever stay a mystery.

But it didn't really matter anyway. Fact was that now all the kitchen stuff was spread throughout the room, making the blonde wonder just how the mutt had managed to cause this mess without any obvious noise.

Still, it was done. And for a second, Patrick thought that maybe he was only dreaming, having fallen asleep on his sofa at the CBI.

But he knew it was real and no amount of human denial would change his kitchen back to its orderly self.

A happy _whaff_ resounded, John's tail wagging furiously over the floor.

"Why did I take you in?", the blonde breathed, "Why?"

The dog whined, cocking its head, before panting fondly.

They stayed like this for moment longer, John content with watching his new human and Jane trying to wrap his mind around the fact that one little disaster on four legs had turned his home into a salvage yard in a matter of a few hours.

Finally he sighed once more.

At least one of them was fed. But Patrick couldn't continue cleaning. Not right away.

"John, we're going shopping, c'mon."

He marched up to the dog, snatched him up and turned on his heels to walk out to the car. John Doe was meeping happily, excited to be carried around.

For the youngster there was so much to see, so many smells telling adventurous stories and so much to try and explore.

Jane let the door fall close behind them, only his wallet and keys quickly stuffed into a pocket. Although he had no idea where the closest pet shop was, his mind was set on finding one. It couldn't be too difficult.

John was placed in the back where he couldn't probably do much harm, while the tall blonde got into the driver's seat and started his Citroen.

The last night's downpour had left its traces everywhere in big puddles and bent tree branches. But now the sky was blue again, only a few fluffy white clouds marring the Californian beauty.

Patrick was glad that for a moment the mess his house had been turned into was out of his sight. He knew of course that nothing of it would clean up itself, but, well, wasn't denial a wonderful trait?

"So, little one, we'll get you a leash and some dog food. And I will get a book on dog training. Anything else you want?"

But he didn't get an answer. Instead, after driving about two blocks, there was a certain retching sound, sending a shiver of apprehension down the former psychic's spine.

"You didn't", he muttered, throwing a quick glance at his passenger.

John had. Sour smell wafted through the car, almost causing Jane to follow suit and empty his stomach spontaneously.

The pup whined miserably and burped lightly.

Patrick sighed, seriously considering just leaving the dog at the side of the road and returning to his former dog-free and therefore carefree existence. At least his more or less carefree existence.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to abandon the pup. He had decided to take it in. They were just off to a rocky start, but it would certainly get better soon.

For now, he stopped at the roadside, got out and went to inspect the damage.

The smell was beyond anything Jane had every gotten a sniff of. Fighting nausea with all his might, a deep frown formed on his forehead, while he inspected Johnny's last meal.

It wasn't pretty, to say the least.

Trying hard to not breathe through his nose, the blonde didn't see any other way to tackle this newest mess and quickly fetched an old strap from his trunk.

Until he got a leash, this would have to do, although the pup sure wasn't happy about it. For his effort, Jane finally earned a stinging bite into his thumb, causing him to loudly recite all curses he had learned over the years from clients and suspects alike.

After a short victorious battle, Patrick tied one end of the strap around the dog's neck and secured the other around his right wrist, making sure Johnny wouldn't just run off into the road.

Slamming and locking the car door, he then started walking in search of a car wash or a towing service, for he sure as hell wasn't driving in that stink hole anywhere anytime soon.

John Doe was fighting the makeshift leash with a vengeance, pulling and biting with all his might, but luckily the fabric seemed strong enough to survive the attack.

Jane meanwhile found himself rubbing at his forehead, trying to stave off an oncoming headache.

Fortunately, his search for a car clean-up commando was short and the workers there were friendly, although the consultant was pretty sure that some smirks had been a tad bit unprofessional. Anyway, he gave them his keys, telling them where to find his Citroen.

They said, they would be finished in two hours top, and even pointed out a pet shop only one block down the road.

As Jane walked out into the sunlight again, innocent blue eyes sparkled up at him, framed by multi-colored strands of fur. He couldn't help but smile slightly, thinking that maybe it wasn't so bad taking care of a dog.


End file.
